Hesitation
by Special Agent FUNK
Summary: He never got what they had promised him. - The merchant's thoughts during the final battle against Saddler. One-shot.


I don't know. I just sat down with three words in the back of my head, typed for half an hour, and this came out.  
>(Words: Needle, memories, hesitation.)<br>This isn't what I normally write, I know that.

No warnings. No crack. No humor. Very short.

Maybe someone will like it. I do hope so. **Please, enjoy.**

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><p>Had it not been his own choice? Had he not said 'yes' to the village chief when he had been offered these certain powers? Had he not willingly sat down in the large chair, had he not nodded when a voice had asked him if he was certain?<p>

Yes. Yes to all of those things. It had been his own choice, he had sat down in the chair, and he had not even flinched when the needle punctured his skin. It had not hurt anyway, not a whole lot. He had been through worse, and really, the prospect of these 'awesome' powers actually gave him an adrenaline rush that could conquer any sort of pain.

Why he had said yes?

He wanted to forget about things. He wanted to forget about the life he had before he was infected. He wanted to forget about his store, forget about his friends, forget about his family.

He especially wanted to forget about _her_.

But had he forgotten? Had he become a slave to Saddler's will? Had he gotten what he wanted?

_No_.

His plaga had not erased his memories. He still had his free will, even though according to researchers, he was not supposed to. He wasn't one of them. He wasn't one of the villagers that attacked any intruders, and the ringing of the church bell didn't do anything to him, even though it was supposed to somehow affect him. He was still himself, still the man that knew everything about weapons, still the man with the familiar accent, still the man that felt the blame for what had happened only a year ago.

He could've done something to save _her_, he was sure of it. If he had not left the door unlocked a little longer, she would've still been around. If he had been fast enough, if he had actually pulled the trigger right away, she would've still been around.

But he had not. He had hesitated, he had thought things wouldn't get any worse. He had thought giving the robbers what they wanted would make them go away, and that he and she could go home after a long evening and that everything would be fine as soon as they got home.

But that's not how things had turned out. His hesitation, the five seconds his finger had been on the trigger, not moving, had been enough for _them_ to fire a weapon and take her out. They took her out in his own gun store. And after the ambulance had carried her outside, she would never return there again.

The man shook his head and glanced at the blonde girl that was standing near the elevator. That child still had a long life ahead of her. This whole ordeal had probably been the first bad thing to have happened to her, and with a little luck it would be the last thing too.

He wanted to believe he had helped her too, even if it was just a little. After all, the stranger fighting for her was using _his_ weapons. The weapons _he_ had taken care of so properly, for so many years.

This had been his last job though. The guns he upgraded for the stranger were the last guns he would ever handle. The island was bound to explode soon, and he didn't have a way off. He didn't care either. He had nothing to go back to. He was not the strong, handsome man he had been anymore. He was just the merchant, with a face that looked too old for his age, with eyes that would glow at random occasions, and with a backpack that would have given him a hernia if he had worn it for a few more months. Just the merchant. Nothing more.

Above him, things had gone silent. Saddler was probably dead, and it was time for the stranger to take the young lady home.

Quietly, he stood behind a rock as the stranger and the young lady entered the cave that would lead them to the jet ski. He shook his head and smirked as he thought about the stories she would have for her parents when she'd get home. And the stories he would have for his friends when he'd get home.

_As for himself?_

"Fuck this shit, I'm out, strangahs."

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><p>Nothing to add for once. Have a lovely weekend.<p>

FUNK.


End file.
